


When you fall, I'll be there to catch you

by Shiba_K



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag: s09e08 The Zygon Inversion, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiba_K/pseuds/Shiba_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in the Black Archives, the Doctor is feeling emotionally drained. Clara is there to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you fall, I'll be there to catch you

**Author's Note:**

> Some might have noticed my tendency to write h/c with Clara mostly taking care of the Doctor. We all have our fixations people :P. It started out as fluffy h/c but devolved into guttery territory...

Clara watched the Doctor climb the stairs to the upper level of the console room, hands gripping the railing on both sides for support. He walked tiredly with his shoulders slumping as if there was something dragging behind him, pulling and weighing him down. The Doctor was exhausted. Physically and mentally drained, wrung-out. 

It was visible in every step he took, every breath that left his lips. 

He had been worn out for centuries. Always Fighting, fighting in a war that wasn’t his. Fighting the people who had started it all. Taking away the pain from others, shouldering it by himself because in his eyes no else should have to. 

_‘And do you know what you do with all that pain? Shall I tell you where you put it? You hold it tight till it burns your hand… and you say this: no one else will ever have to live like this! No one else will have to feel this pain!’_

His word kept running loud and clear inside Clara’s mind. Her own hand tingled reflexively, as if her body could feel the stinging pain too. Right now, to her it looked as if the Doctor would buckle under all that weight, finally having reached his limit. She had known of course that he shouldered those impossible choices by himself. But until today she hadn’t been fully conscious of the extent of it. The Doctor would rather destroy his soul than let someone destroy a civilization. That was the true extent of the promise encased in his name. 

Concerned eyes followed him as he trudged over to the bookcase containing his beloved Beethoven records. Putting his hands on either side of Beethoven’s bust, the Doctor leaned forward closing his eyes. Was he hearing them now, the screams? Is that why he only ever took catnaps, so that he wouldn’t have to listen to the screams of the children he hadn’t been able to save?

Clara couldn’t help but wonder about this while she observed her friend as he tried desperately not to collapse in front of her. But when would enough be enough? What more would it take before the Time Lord’s knees would buckle under the strain and he would fall? Another war? Another loss? Her death? 

The Doctor had certainly been confronted with Clara’s presumed demise often enough in the last few months. She shivered with the memories of the crippling despair and grief when she though he had been killed in that underwater base. How had he felt? Emotions ran very deep in a secular being like him. If it had been crippling for her, it must have been downright excruciating for him. 

Clara would have liked nothing more than to be able to at least put his mind at ease about her future, but she knew all too well how fickle time really was. She had no control over what would happen tomorrow, to either of them. What she did have though, was control of the here and now. 

They were safely aboard the TARDIS. Thanks to Osgood, and in the end even Bonnie, the Doctor had averted another catastrophe. Humans and Zygons were safe. And the Doctor – a tremor ran through his frame as he let out a trembling breath – the Doctor for once would be able to close his eyes without hearing the screams, because she was going to take hold of his hand and share that pain he so selflessly burdened himself with. She would be there to catch him when he finally fell. 

With determination in her step, Clara made her way over to where he stood. As she approached, she heard her name leave his lips in a sigh. 

‘Clara.’

The Doctor had sensed her presence near him, always so finely attuned to his Impossible Girl. If she was willing, he could do with one of her hugs. Who was he kidding, a hug wasn’t enough. What he really wanted to do was bury his face in her neck, breath in the familiar scent of her, and not move for several days. 

‘I’m here,’ her voice had an almost angelic quality to it. Maybe it was due to the lingering terror of thinking her gone. Or maybe it was the exhaustion that clouded his mind, but right then Clara Oswald seemed to him like a heaven sent. 

Treading softly, Clara crept close to his hunched figure, wrapping her right arm around his left and sliding her hand down over the rough fabric of his jacket to his hand. Those large hands which could easily engulf hers, full of invisible scars. 

The Doctor watched from the corner of his eyes how Clara’s hand covered his and her fingers insinuated themselves between his longer ones. Blinking, he turned his head slightly to look at her, finding her worried gaze on him. 

‘Clara.’ He straightened a fraction, some of that oppressing pressure lifting for the simple reason that she was there, holding his hand. ‘I’m here, Doctor,’ Clara repeated, ‘let me carry some of that burden for you, at least for tonight.’ 

Tempting, her words were so tempting, and she was even tugging at him now, getting him follow her. Oh, sweet, impossible Clara, didn’t she know he could never turn her down? And now she was even offering to take away part of his torment. For once, the Doctor did not have the strength to refuse, however much he might regret doing so in the morning. Twisting, he made to embrace her, her hand falling away, his body at last giving in. Moving on instinct, he sought Clara’s touch ready to lose himself in her. Not thinking, no more thinking, not for the next several hours. 

Sensing the change in him, but knowing that she physically wouldn’t be able to support his weight once he collapsed, Clara acted swiftly. Raising her hands and pushing firmly against his shoulders, Clara halted his forward momentum. She knew from experience that a hot shower and a good night’s sleep could perform miracles. And she suspected that Time Lords weren’t immune to their combined restorative powers. Now to get him to a place where he could do both…

 

‘Doctor, I know you are tired, but I need you to hold on just a moment longer. Can you do that for me?’

His body staggered backwards a step, hitting the bookcase behind him. Clara winced though the Doctor looked unperturbed. She stepped close, just to be sure she could indeed catch him should his legs give out. He’d probably drag her with him, but she might be able to cushion the impact a little. 

Instead, the Doctor surprised her by reaching out and cupping her face, his long fingers sliding in her hair, thumb caressing her cheek. His touch was so tender, she had to swallow against the sudden onslaught of emotions. 

‘Anything for my Clara,’ he said with a rumbling voice infused with adoration. 

Oh god, he really was on the edge of the precipice. Clara had heard that tone only on very rare occasions and it usually involved much closer brushes with death than what had happened today. 

‘Because I’m the boss, yeah?’

She received a half-hearted smile and a ‘Yes, boss’ from him. As far as banter went, they could do better, but Clara knew that it was the best she was going to get out of him at the moment. 

‘You’ve got that right, Doctor Disco. Come on then, let’s get you settled.’ 

Wrapping her right arm around his back, she slung his left over her shoulders, pulling him with her. The Doctor had no choice but to follow, grateful for the support her smaller body offered. Meekly, he allowed Clara to lead him out of the console room and through the winding corridors of the TARDIS. His ship was aware of her pilot’s emotional and physical state and had relocated the room she had hoped to find relatively close to the control room. 

Immediately recognizing the deep blue wood of his bedroom door, the Doctor shot Clara a quizzical look, not that he had any strength left in him to protest. His only answer was a small reassuring smile before she helped him cross the threshold, the TARDIS assisting them by opening and closing the door. 

She guided him to the only other door in the room, hoping it was the ensuite. Too focused on managing both their weights, she didn’t look around much. The Doctor’s tall body was leaning more and more on her, and Clara was beginning to struggle, not that she would ever admit that. She would carry him across an entire planet if she needed to. As it were she only caught a glimpse of the large four poster bed and dark wooden closets.

Entering the bathroom, they walked over to the toilet, Clara shifting from under him and helping him sit down on the closed lid. He instantly slumped with his back against the wall head back and eyes closed. Eyeing him to make sure he wouldn’t topple over the minute she turned around, Clara took in the Doctor’s bathroom.  
She had no idea what the bathroom of a Time Lord would look like aside the standard features perhaps. Seeing his, Clara suspected it had been tailored to his personal preferences. The dark gray tiles covered all the walls and floor, reflecting his mysterious and often times brooding nature. And yet, she had to admit that the overall effect was comforting in some way, as if the room enveloped its occupants in a cozy embrace. The warm air and soft lighting certainly helped in creating this odd mixture.

Postponing any further perusals of bathroom decorations, Clara studied the gigantic tub that stood at the center of the room. A hot bath would do wonders for the Doctor, but she would never be able to drag him out of it and she had a feeling he might well fall asleep. Drowning him was not what she had in mind. 

Settling her gaze on the shower cubicle next, Clara weighed the pros and cons of it. It would be easier to get the Time Lord in and out, although there was still the risk of him crashing to the wet floor. In the end she decided that him breaking a limb was a more acceptable risk compared to drowning. And if need be, she could always prop him up in a corner. 

Satisfied with her decision, Clara turned toward her friend, only to find a pair of blood-shot blue eyes studying her. ‘Clara,’ there was a question in how the Doctor said her name, wondering why she had brought him here. He heaved himself upright with some difficulty when she approached him. 

‘A hot shower can work miracles, you know.’ 

‘Yeah,’ he answered dumbly, his mind not really up to the task of debating her statement. He figured Clara could make the decisions for him. Although… there was that sad smile again, the one he couldn’t stand. Something inside the Doctor fought through the haze of exhaustion, urging him to get up and console her.

His booted foot slid backwards to give him a boost, unfortunately his leg protested, the muscles simply refusing to take his weight resulting in him toppling forwards. If it hadn’t been for Clara’s quick reflexes, bracing his torso against hers, the Doctor’s face would have had a very close up encounter with the tiles of his bathroom. 

‘I’ve got you, Doctor,’ Clara reassured him, hands slowly sliding up from his shoulders where she had caught him to caress the impressive fluff he passed as hair nowadays. 

‘howy,’ his apology was muffled from where his face was squished against Clara’s midriff. His nose was filled with her scent, and even though her clothes reeked from the Zygon pod, it was soothingly familiar. His arms lifted to encircle her waist, bringing her even closer. She was soft and warm and exactly what he needed. 

‘ ‘s okay. Just give me a bit of warning next time you try to get up, hey.’ Clara was quite content to be held by him in this slightly awkward hug, knowing how much the Doctor needed this though he would never outright ask for it. After a minute or so she moved back a bit in order to see his eyes. 

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’ 

‘Come on, let’s get you in that shower, yeah.’ 

The Doctor nodded. 

Guiding him backwards until he once again rested against the wall, Clara knelt down to remove his boots followed by his socks. Gray stripes, she noted as she tucked them into his shoes. Standing up, she held her hands out to the Doctor.

‘Up you go, then.’

Hauling him up, he vacillated for a second before finding his balance. Her hands settled over his pectorals, sliding underneath his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. The garment landed silently on the floor. Next was his tattered hoodie. So far the Doctor had made no attempts at helping nor stopping her. 

‘Still with me?’

Another nod, which Clara took as a good sign. Right then, jumper, off. 

Her hands trailed lightly down his sides and under the soft material. She had to resist the urge to poke him through the holes. This time though the Doctor moved. As Clara’s hands rose taking the jumper with them, he raised his arms letting her pull it off of him. It landed in the growing pile of clothing at their feet.

Once more Clara hands traveled south, but instead of stopping at the end of his t-shirt, they stopped at his belt buckle. He sucked in a sharp breath when Clara made contact with his belly. 

‘Okay?’ She threw him a questioning glance, aware that she was pushing the boundaries. It was one thing to offer a hug to a friend in need, it was quite another to undress said friend. 

‘Yeah,’ he exhaled forcefully, indicating for her to continue. 

It was her turn to nod as she dropped her gaze to focus on what she was doing. Pulling the strap out of the buckle, she tugged the leather out of the belt loops and let it fall with a clang. His trousers immediately sagged a little over his narrow hips. 

Now his t-shirt. Clara hesitated for a fraction before grabbing the hem, and dragged the shirt upwards over his head, exposing his pale chest. Instantly her eyes fell on the pinkish lightning pattern marring his right shoulder and right side of his chest. The Doctor had been silently watching Clara absorbed as she was in her task of undressing him, when he noticed she was staring at something. His gaze followed hers, seeing the mark for the first time.

‘What happened?’

‘I got zapped by a Zygon a few times,’ he replied tracing one jagged line with a fingertip. ‘He didn’t do much damage, wasn’t meant to. Just to keep me at a distance,’ he explained. 

Clara’s eyes snapped to his, searching for any lies in his statement. The Doctor gave a her a tiny smile, showing her that it really was nothing. His hand sought hers, giving it a brief squeeze before dropping it back to his side. 

Mirroring his earlier action, Clara traced one of the lines from his clavicle to just over his right heart, feeling the organ beat strongly. It looked as if the lines were getting lighter, healing already, his alien physiology ensuring a speedy recovery. By morning they would be gone, leaving no trace behind. Not physical, anyway. It were the mental marks that required help, which she was all too happy to lend him. 

Clara resumed her task of undressing him. Reaching for his trousers, she undid the button and slid the zipper down. Once loose, they sagged even more and it took little effort on her part to push them down to his ankles. Settling her hands on his boxers clad hips, Clara glanced up at him asking him silently if he was ok with it. 

The Doctor nodded imperceptibly. 

She was well aware that the Doctor had let her get away with a lot more than he normally would. They had never gone much further than a cuddle or a hug, hands never straying from safe territories. And while they took care of the other, from cleaning and dressing the occasional scrape or cut to offering a comforting embrace, this was taking things a step further. His walls were crumbling in front of her eyes, the Doctor no longer having the strength to maintain them. He was trusting her with himself when he was at his most vulnerable.

Pushing his dark red boxers with white question marks past his hips, they joined the rest of his clothes on the floor. Clara stepped back to properly look at him starting from his feet, moving up his strong calves and thighs which were covered in dark gray hairs, not stopping at his groin out of respect. Her eyes continued to travel up his hips and the barely there tummy that any other day she would have loved to poke with her finger and rest her cheek against it, and reaching the smattering of silvery hair on his sternum. His upper chest and shoulders were skinny but showed the hint of muscles just underneath the surface, his hidden strength. She lingered on his shoulders, the pink lightning tattoo holding her attention before she moved on to the hollow of his throat and strong, elegant neck. 

Her perusal ended at his droopy eyes, watching her quietly. It hit her again just how beautiful the man standing in front of her was. His sharp features hid a softness that few people ever saw. If she could spend hours gazing into his stormy eyes she would surely drown in the swirling pools of gray holding that spark of life that never failed to make her heart skip a beat or two. 

Clara was the first person to see him fully naked. This new body of his. In any other circumstance he would have been embarrassed, would have tried to cover himself up. Nor would he have let Clara undress him like a small child. A child who badly needed to be comforted and taken care of. 

Or maybe it should have happened in a very different setting, one in which her touch would not have been so chaste and he a much more active participant.

The Doctor clasped the hand that had reached to him, allowing Clara to gently guide him to the shower. It was more of a separate room really, spacious, with jets coming from the side and a cascade like showerhead from the ceiling, all gray tiles and shiny faucets.

The TARDIS automatically turned on the water the minute Clara reached for the door handle, the heat steaming up the glass walls. She sent a silent thank you to the sentient ship.

When she opened the door, a wall of steam hit her in the face making her long for her own shower. First though, she needed to take care of the Doctor. She pushed him inside with a firm hand on his chest, intending to let him scrub himself when unexpectedly he grabbed her hand and dragged her in. Shocked, she stumbled forwards and into his surprisingly solid chest, the water soaking her instantly from head to toe. The Doctor caught her, one arm encircling her waist to secure her to him. 

Clara let out a startled ‘oh’. 

‘Don’t go, please.’ 

How could she when he used that timid voice, so different from the shouting tones she had heard only a few hours ago. She blinked through her plastered hair and studied him, his springy curls now matted down and water running over his shoulders and chest in rivulets. Some of the tension had already left him, sliding down his body and into the drain carried by the hot water. Even his rare smile was peeking through the dark veil. 

‘Panda.’

‘What?’ Clara spluttered dumbfounded. 

His smile turned dopey.

‘Panda. You look like a human panda,’ he supplied helpfully, pointing a slender finger at her face. 

Clara just stared at him before it clicked. 

Panda. Her make-up had run and now she must be sporting two black circles around her eyes, probably with streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. A deep, suffering groan rose from her throat. 

‘Yeah, that’s what you get when you pull me into a shower while I’m still wearing my make-up.’ 

She tried to sound somewhat annoyed, she really did, but it was impossible to do so when he was grinning stupidly at her like that and rubbing circles with his thumb on her waist. That was really distracting, decided Clara. The Doctor was most likely high on endorphins. Now that he was beginning to relax, his body was releasing them to fight his exhaustion. 

‘Oh, you mean your face was colored in? Sorry, didn’t notice.’ He shrugged. 

‘Doctor!’ Clara laughed, ‘I thought we had gone over this, it’s called make-up.’

‘Don’t have my flash-cards with me,’ then, scrunching up his face he added: ‘It’s a stupid name anyway. It’s like, like you had a fight with your face and now have to apologize to it.’

Clara couldn’t help but giggle at his words, bending forward to rest her head on his chest while she laughed. The Doctor felt rather pleased with himself for making her laugh. 

‘Yeah, okay, I’ll stay. Soaked now, so…’ she said as she stepped back from the Doctor. Biting her lip, she contemplated the best course of action, deciding in the end to just strip there and let the TARDIS take care of her ruined clothing. Her heart started hammering in her chest at the idea that soon she would be naked too. It was one thing to have only the Doctor naked, but it was something else entirely for them both to be naked, together. How had her simple plan turned into this, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Her heart started to beat a little faster and nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She couldn’t help being slightly apprehensive about what the Doctor would think, knowing that it was silly but also natural. He wasn’t in any shape to do much beside trying to remain upright, but they were both aware of the lingering tension between them, electricity filling the air and surrounding them every time they touched. It was always there, like the glowing embers of a fire needing only a little encouragement to burst into flames. 

With the ball of her foot Clara slid her boots off one by one, using the Doctor’s arm to steady herself. She kicked them out of the shower where they landed in a puddle of water. Her coat proved a little trickier now that it was wet as it was glued to her body. The Doctor helped her slide her arms out of each sleeve, tugging to get it loose. It landed with a wet slap on top of her shoes. 

Silently, he asked her the same question she had asked him. 

_Is this ok?_

And Clara gave him the same answer he had given her.

_Yes._

Satisfied, the Doctor slid his hands under her white blouse, now almost see-through. He pulled it and her undershirt up and over her head, Clara lifting her arms to help him. Discarding it, he tucked a few strands of hair behind her left ear and swiped his thumbs under her eyes, catching some of her ruined make-up. His hands then dropped to her jeans, unbuttoning them and lowering the zip. They fought with the stiff material and even came close to falling, but together they managed to wrestle Clara out of her trousers. 

Thank god Clara’s underwear was easy to get off of her, because the Doctor was loath to admit that the struggle with her jeans had sapped the last of his reserves. Right now, he felt he would just crumble if someone would blow against him. 

Sensing his predicament, Clara closed the shower door with her foot and positioned him right under the spray. Reaching blindly behind her, her hand found a washcloth and a bar of soap. Grabbing both items, she made a lather and started soaping up his chest. 

The minute her hands touched his chest, his knees buckled and Clara had only seconds to brace herself before the Doctor crashed down to the floor, his body having finally reached his absolute limit. She succeeded in halting his fall enough to lower him down somewhat controlled, though his knees hit the hard tiles with a sound that made her grimace. 

Cradling his upper body in her arms, Clara threaded her fingers through his wet hair soothingly. 

‘Are you okay?’

She felt his nod. 

‘Ay, sorry, got caught by surprise,’ the Doctor’s accent had become a lot thicker she noticed. He straightened up a bit, kneeling with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist for support. 

‘ ‘s fine.’

Retrieving the washcloth were it had fallen next to them, Clara resumed washing his chest, her free hand bracing his shoulder. Starting from the center and fanning out, she moved in large circles over his abdomen and ribs, up his shoulders and neck. Shuffling closer, she had to press herself against his chest to reach his back. She had to focus hard on the task at hand and not dwell on the fact that her breasts were flush with the Doctor’s surprisingly strong chest. For a stick insect, she thought, he was remarkably solid. Must be a Time Lord trick.

His arms rose to envelop her, his right hand brushing accidentally the swell of her breast and Clara couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her at his touch. While she had been feeling tiredness creeping in, her body still had plenty of energy to react to the Doctor’s accidental touch. She halted in her movements, pulling back far enough to lock eyes with him. 

The bathroom, the shower, even the water raining down fell away as that electric current travelled between them. In that moment they knew that if it weren’t for his physical and mental exhaustion, things would be moving in an entirely different direction. It had been slow in coming but one that neither would mind. Not now when they had to come to wordless understanding. In the span of a second, the Doctor and Clara had held an entire conversation pertaining to a subject they normally skirted around, their silent communication stronger than ever. 

‘S’ry,’ the Doctor mumbled, burying his nose in her neck, although neither was quite sure exactly what he was apologizing for: the incidental touch or it being incidental in the first place. Clara’s free hand gave him a reassuring squeeze, letting him know she didn’t mind either way. There would be time later.

The Doctor had Clara Oswald, naked and wet in his arms, and all he could do was try not to fall asleep under her gentle ministrations. 

Up until then he had chickened out of ever taking their relationship further, fearing that she wouldn’t want more than friendship from him. The Doctor was aware that Clara loved him, and that love between friends could run very deep, but it was still different from a sort of all-consuming love that could make entire planets burn. 

When finally he had been presented with the evidence that maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t be opposed to his advances, his body betrayed him. He was numb, too beat to properly process sensations, barely even feeling the hot water running down his body or Clara’s touch. Mere notions of whispers on his skin, creating a stark contrast with the usual sparks any contact with her elicited.

So much for superior Time Lord stamina. 

He let out a derisive laugh. 

Confused at the sound, Clara attempted to pull back causing the Doctor to tighten his hold on her. ‘I can barely feel you, Clara…’ the rest of his sentence hung heavily between them as she processed his words, taken aback by his openness. It was the fatigue talking, lowering his walls. 

‘Not even this?’ she bent down to plant a lingering kiss between his hearts. Gray met brown and heat rose in their gazes. Her kiss should have left the skin on his chest burning, but the Doctor could only feel a mild tingling where her lips had touched him. ‘I…’ she cut him off with a shake of her head. She understood. He used their hug to hide his face from her, slightly ashamed of not being able to enjoy her caresses. He planted a sloppy kiss in the crook of her neck knowing that Clara would be able to enjoy it. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed at the feel of his lips, committing the sensation to memory. 

Eventually she gently pried his head away from her neck, informing him she still needed to was the rest of him. Relenting, the Doctor let her move away from him, shifting his body into a sitting position, allowing his knees a modicum of relief. Working diligently and knowing that the Doctor was fighting hard to stay awake, Clara washed the rest of him, always keeping her touch soothing and calm. Placing a hand just above his knee, Clara sought his tired eyes, checking if he was still with her. 

‘Hey, just your hair and we are done. Can you hang on a little bit longer?’

Satisfied with the half grumbled reply she received, she got up to retrieve his shampoo. The Doctor remained sitting where he was, bending his legs to rest his arms on his knees, allowing his head to slump forward. The water drummed on his head and back, creating a rush in his ears, but it did nothing to mute the agonizing screams he heard as soon as he closed his eyes. 

He slipped.

A frown formed between his eyebrows, his jaw clenching as his constant torment assaulted his senses. Flashes of explosions played out behind his eyelids, debris falling everywhere covering the ground while the air was heavy with the coppery tang of blood.

Suddenly, the loud screams diminished greatly in volume and he could once again make out the sound of the water beating down on him. The smell of blood was replaced with the spicy scent of his soap. The Doctor snapped open his eyes to find Clara’s hand covering his clenched fist.

Taking a gulp of air, he lifted his gaze to hers, seeing her worried eyes bore into his. 

‘Hey, stay with me. Don’t go to that dark place.’

‘Clara,’ he breathed her name, whether in desperation or hope, he didn’t know. But she heard it, the emotion tugging painfully at her heart. ‘I know you are tired, Doctor, but don’t close your eyes, not yet, not when I’m not near. Look at me instead,’ she gently encouraged him. 

The Doctor wanted to say a thousand things in that moment. A thousand thank yous, and even more words to praise her kindness and beauty though nothing made it past his slightly parted lips. They were lodged in his throat, refusing to come out.

Not wanting to repeat her earlier mistake, Clara insinuated herself in the space between his knees, maintaining their eye contact at all times. She kept touching him too, a hand, an arm or a leg continuously brushing against him. The Doctor aided her in efforts, his hands gripped her sides, raising her up and then he was shifting, moving to sit cross-legged with her straddling him sideways. Clara felt the way his arms trembled under the strain, using what little strength he had to keep her close. Something inside her tightened and swelled, reaching out to the man holding her, surrounding him.

Spent, the Doctor’s head dropped onto her shoulder where he let out a sigh. ‘I need you, Clara,’ this time his voice was definitely filled with an edge of desperation. He was raw and open, burning and stinging like a deep abrasion. There was little that could soothe him now without further aggravating the pain, except perhaps the woman who was so kindly and willing to let him borrow her strength. 

And so, despite the cramped position of her arms, the way her shoulders and back protested after only a few minutes, Clara washed his hair massaging his scalp and murmuring comforting words in his ear while he hid his expression from her. She let him lean on her, draw whatever solace he needed as he worked to slowly rebuild his defenses. 

Clara lost track of time, the rhythmic sound of the water beating on the tiles and their heads almost hypnotizing. They were surrounded by clouds of steam and jets of hot water, cocooning and hiding them from the outside world. Soon though, the little tremors going through the Doctor’s body gradually diminished, the tension in his muscles uncoiling. The occasional whimpers she had caught were turning into tiny groans while she rubbed his head, the shampoo long gone and her massage having become a slow caress. 

However pleasurable it was to sit so intimately intertwined, her butt had gone numb ages ago, her arms had started to feel leaden and she was in serious danger of falling asleep. Time to enact the second phase of her original plan: sleep. 

A moan escaped the Doctor as Clara inched back and he fought the urge to tighten his hold. The last several minutes he had been floating somewhere between the material world and the dream world. The warmth of Clara and the water had quite literally melted him, the sensation of her body moving against his the only thing anchoring him down. He had basked in this moment of intimacy. It had been more rejuvenating than the catnaps he normally took, for both body and spirit. 

He had his eyes open all the time though, staring unseeing at the patch of skin between her shoulder and the top of her breast. His eyelashes had brushed her skin each time he blinked, leaving goosebumps. He wanted to remain in that state longer but Clara was calling him back. ‘Don’t want you to go,’ the Doctor murmured, his blue eyes silently asking her to let him stay where he was for a little longer. Clara was a bit taken aback by his admission. Clearly his walls were still down. The hand on his sternum dropped to his belly, giving it a slow rub. 

A hand traveled from the Doctor’s head to in between their bodies, pushing at his chest. Reluctantly, he started to disentangle himself from Clara. 

‘ _We_ ,’ she stressed the pronoun, ‘are going to crawl into the nearest bed and sleep for the next several hours. How does that sound?’ she finished, wiping a wet strand of hair away from her face.  
‘And I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling more and more like a wrinkled prune than a human being right now.’ 

The Doctor’s dopey grin returned: ‘I like prunes.’ 

Clara made a mental note to make a flash-card regarding appropriate compliments at some point in the future, but had to secretly admit at finding them absolutely adoring. They were very rare, and always spoken with a child-like sincerity that never failed to bring out a smile from her. 

Suddenly, a very unlady-like squeak tore from her lips.

Unexpectedly, the Doctor surged forward forcing her backwards until she thought she would fall flat on her back if not for the arm that wound itself around her. His free arm shot out to brace them against the floor as he uncrossed his legs.

For a second, Clara hung suspended from the Doctor’s chest, her arms and legs wrapping automatically around his neck and waist. On his hands and knees he gazed deeply in her eyes, a storm of emotions playing out behind his gray blue orbs. The TARDIS had shut off the shower, but water still dripped down from his hair and nose on to her face, and Clara watched mesmerized as his tongue shot out to lick an errant drop hovering on his upper lip. 

With an impressive show of strength, the Doctor eventually hauled both their weights up and walked out of the cubicle with Clara holding on for dear life. Stepping on the fluffy mat, he gently lowered her to the floor, keeping his arm in place until he was sure she was standing on her own two feet. He threw her a small smirk to which she responded by swatting his chest.

‘Show off.’

‘Panda.’

Clara stuck out her tongue in defiance, the Doctor just shook his head. 

Grabbing two large, fluffy towels the TARDIS had set out for them, Clara handed one to the Doctor and with the other she quickly scrubbed at her face. Looking down at her towel, she grimaced at the red and black streaks, silently thanking the powers that be that she wasn’t the one was going to have to get the stains out. 

The Doctor surprised both of them when he started drying her. Something about being exhausted brought out the more domestic and caring side of him. Clara was quick to return the favor, patting him down and making him squat so she could reach his head. 

She admired her handiwork, his wild curls sticking up in damp tufts making him look like a disgruntled fluffy owl. A very handsome, disgruntled fluffy owl. An errant drop of water slid down his chest as the steam from their shower condensed more rapidly on his cooler skin. Her eyes couldn’t help but follow it as it slid all the way down to the dark gray hairs of his groin. 

Clara blushed and averted her eyes feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. The Doctor could read her like an open book when he wanted to. 

‘Clara.’ 

Her name spilling from his lips made her meet his steady gaze. He reached out to take her hand using it to pull her close. 

‘Please, let me rest for now, we will talk later. I think it has been long overdue that we did so.’ 

Her mouth opened a little in shock. He was going to keep throwing curve balls at her tonight. How unpredictable the Doctor had become now that his walls had been torn down. No, Clara amended, he was always unpredictable, always finding new ways of amazing her. But not when it came to this, this ongoing dance between them, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. They took microscopic steps forwards each time, though never enough to come to any sort of resolution. 

Until now that was. They were about to embark upon a completely different kind of adventure than what they were used to. It wasn’t just the call of the unknown. It was the call of their hearts and souls too. 

She found herself nodding, all to happy to accept his terms. Relief flooded him, knowing that now he was just too much like an exposed nerve to have a proper conversation with Clara about this.

‘Yeah, sleep is good.’

Her response sounded distant, a testimony of her own fatigue. They smiled knowingly at each other. Clara rose on her tiptoes to kiss the Doctor’s cheek. With their hands clasped together, she started walking out of the bathroom with the Doctor in tow. 

He managed to make it to the bed before his legs gave out. Firmly holding on to her hand, he forced Clara to fall too and they collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs onto the soft, dark red bed spread. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid, old man,’ and tried to disentangle herself from the dead weight of the Doctor. 

‘You shouldn’t have picked me up in the shower. Next time wait until you actually have the energy to do so. You could have dropped me,’ Clara ribbed good-heartedly, fully intent on ignoring the faint blush that crept up her neck at her words. 

_Next time._

No reply came from the sprawled Time Lord and Clara actually thought he had fallen asleep. Rising, she quickly rooted through his drawers not wanting to leave him alone for too long. She was in the middle of searching for something for them to wear when his raspy voice broke the silence.

‘If I can do that when I’m exhausted, imagine what I can do when I’m not.’ He had turned his face toward her and actually waggled his attack eyebrows at her in what was supposed to be a suggestive manner. The effect was ruined a little by the way his bare ass, which was rather lovely to look at, stuck up in the air.

Suppressing a giggle, Clara threw him a pair of plain light blue boxers which landed on his head, and shut the drawer of his closet. Making her way back to the bed, she sat down and dumped her findings next to the prone Doctor who still had his underwear perched on his head. 

Had she been less tired and wrung out from the day’s events, she might have questioned how quickly they had become comfortable with their nakedness, exuding a kind of relaxed intimacy that even lovers experienced only after having been together for a certain amount of time. They never did anything by the rulebook. Rules were boring and so not them. 

Groaning the Doctor shifted to lie on his back, plucking the boxes from his head. With an exaggerated struggle he pulled them on, flopping back down causing the bed and Clara to bounce. A laugh escaped her at his antics. 

‘You are stealing my clothes, Clara Oswald,’ he stated as he watched her getting dressed in a pair of his boxes and one of his skull t-shirts. The thing came down to mid-thigh and looked ridiculously big on her, yet a pang of possessiveness shot through him at the sight. Her presence in his bed, wearing his clothes had made him conscious of something that he tried unknowingly to ignore: just how strongly he viewed Clara as being his. 

A sudden urge swelled inside him to sink his teeth in her neck in exactly that spot where her artery pulsed with her heartbeat, bite her until he left a deep, red imprint of his teeth, and suck to the point of bruising. A temporary tattoo branding Clara Oswald as his. And when it would start to fade, he would repeat it all over again. 

Had the Doctor not been forcing his closing eyelids to stay open, his limbs leaden, he would have acted on his urges in a flash. As such he contented himself with the beautiful sight before him. 

Oblivious to the Doctor’s internal struggle, Clara crawled up the bed, burrowing down under the blankets. She was completely surrounded by the Doctor’s scent. It had already been very prominent while they showered, his soap giving off that strong spicy odor she had come to associate with him. But here it was more subdued while at the same time deeper, having been absorbed by the fabric of his sheets. The only thing missing now was his body next to hers. 

She found him staring at her. Smiling, Clara held the corner of the sheets up in invitation, one the Doctor gladly accepted. It took a moment for them to rearrange their positions until they were both satisfied. The Doctor ended lying half on top of Clara, arms around her waist and back and his cheek resting on her breastbone, the steady beat of her heart right under his ear. He nuzzled his nose in the soft fabric covering her breast, breathing deeply, committing her scent to memory. Exhaling slowly, his whole body shuddered as the last of the tension left him. 

Clara wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s head and upper back, the fingers of her right hand stroking his still damp hair. Tightening her hold on him when she felt him shiver, her right leg rose to further accommodate him in the cradle of her body. It didn’t take long before she felt him succumb to the sleep of the dead, his whole body just sagging against her, almost as if he had passed out cold. 

No more screams, no more pain. Only warmth and affection in the arms of Clara Oswald. 

His last thoughts before the Doctor gave himself fully over to Morpheus were of love and Clara. 

The heavy weight of the Doctor was comforting to Clara. She had no idea how long she spent caressing his hair, feeling it dry and curl, sliding her fingers through its softness, or how many nonsensical drawings she traced on the skin on his back. She fought off sleep, wanting to prolong these moments for as long as she could. 

For the first time after the events in the Black Archives Clara dared to let her tears fall. They were silent, running down from the corner of her eyes and her temples, leaving little round spots on the white pillowcase. 

‘You will not have to hear those screams, you will not have to bear that pain alone. As long as I am with you, be it for just another day or for a hundred years more, I will stand next to you, I…’ she swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath.

‘I will hold your hand, Doctor, and soothe the burn, because that’s what I do. Because I am your carer. I will stand between you and the rest of the universe if it means protecting you. My echoes have kept watch over all of your previous faces,’ Clara whispered in his hair, ‘and I will keep watch over you. I’ve let you down, even betrayed you, but you have to know that I will never stop caring for you.’ 

Her fingers stroked his silver curls delicately. 

‘Thank you for being a Doctor today. Thank you for being the man I love.’ 

Placing a loving kiss on his hairline near his temple, Clara joined the Doctor in a dreamless slumber, unaware of his arms tightening just a fraction as her words reached some level of his subconscious. 

************************************

The Doctor woke up several hours later not knowing whether it was still night or morning but feeling refreshed and rested for the first time in ages. Uninterrupted sleep was a very rare occasion for him, one which usually necessitated some sort of sedative. And with his physiology there were few substances strong enough to do the trick. 

Clara Oswald was one of them. 

They were still intertwined, wrapped in his sheets with arms and legs tangled to keep the other as close as physically possible. His nose was buried in the worn fabric of his shirt, his and Clara’s scent now mixed together to create a new, exhilarating smell. 

Shifting slightly, he pushed his nose more fully into the yielding softness of Clara’s breast, pressing his cheek against it. A happy sigh escaped him. If this was what waking up with Clara felt like, the Doctor might well reconsider his view on the catnaps. 

But with that thought memories of the previous day came flooding back, and with them the crushing fear brought by Bonnie’s cold words: ‘ _I’m sorry, but Clara’s dead._ ’

The abrupt change in his mood caused his bed partner to frown under him, sensing something was wrong. The Doctor had to force himself to calm down. Being this close, it was likely that some of his thoughts trickled through his mental shields alerting the still sleeping Clara. 

She was safe and in his arms. _Just focus on that_ , the Doctor told himself. 

Part of the reason for him being so clingy last night had been his desperate need for reassurance that his Clara was alive and well. 

How much longer was he going to let his fears control him before the inevitable happened and she would be ripped away from him? And all he would be left with was the bitter taste of missed opportunities and memories of her smile? 

They could share more, make more memories together. 

Clara was here, and if he concentrated hard enough he could make out the fuzzy edges of words of love she had spoken not so long ago. The Doctor just needed to take that one step, take a risk – god knew he took enough of them on a daily basis – and trust her to catch him. 

Had she been afraid too? Was that why she had never taken the step to fully change the course of their relationship? He tried to convey his care, his affection, his love for her in subtle ways, but what if he had been too subtle? Words weren’t his strong point, not when it came to social interactions, feelings, emotions. That was why Clara had made those flashcards in the first place. 

Or maybe she had been dropping small hints and he simply didn’t get it…

Too much thinking, it was making him agitated and it was upsetting Clara too, her hands gripping his back, a disquiet sound coming from her. No more, the Doctor decided. He and Clara were going to move on from this impasse right now. And since he couldn’t do words, the Doctor figured he would just have to show her. 

‘Clara,’ he whispered her name while retrieving his arms from beneath her back. Opening and closing his hand a few times to get the blood flowing again, he crawled upwards, nuzzling first the hollow of throat, then her neck and jaw. 

‘Clara.’

She twitched, her brain registering something was happening, but she was still too deep asleep to properly process whatever it was. Her body on the other hand seemed to be waking up a lot faster, responding with goosebumps on the spots the Doctor’s hand touched as it sneaked its way under her t-shirt. Warm, silky smooth skin met his calloused fingertips as he caressed her side. 

‘Clara, my Clara.’

A kiss where jaw met neck earned him a tiny moan. 

_Sensitive_. 

The Doctor filed away that information for later. Another kiss, the memories of yesterday’s ordeal becoming fainter.

A groan followed, his name. 

He felt hot inside, like someone had flicked on a heater, yet his skin remained cool. Contrasting, confusing, exciting. 

_Clara_.

He skimmed his teeth along the column of her throat. This time her reaction was much more conscious. Arching her neck, Clara exposed it to the Doctor, encouraging him. 

‘Doctor.’ 

One hand fisted in his hair, guiding his mouth. He felt the change in her breathing, her mind finally catching up to the sensations cursing through her body. 

‘Not that I mind,’ her voice was hoarse with sleep, ‘but to what do I owe this wonderful wake up,’ Clara asked, craning her neck enough to be able to look at him. Deprived of his prized spot, the Doctor pulled back to meet her gaze. 

Steely blue eyes met Clara’s warm brown orbs. He didn’t answer immediately, preferring instead to gaze unabashedly at the small woman lying in his bed, skin flushed from the remnants of sleep and his kisses. Her neck was still pristine, no marks yet. The Doctor wanted her fully awake and responsive when he did leave his imprint. 

Something had shifted in his eyes, Clara saw that instantly. A major decision had been taken while she had been resting, and she had an inkling it involved what he had said to her several hours earlier. 

‘Doctor,’ Clara moved, attempting to get up but the Doctor stopped her with his body, pushing her down on the mattress. 

‘No more,’ he shook his head, placing his forehead against hers. ‘No more of this unknown between us. No more thinking that I’ve … lost you,’ he had to force the words out, refusing to linger on them. 

‘No more regrets.’

‘Doctor,’ she called out to him softly, sensing his agitation. 

His eyes searched hers desperately, wanting, hoping, needing to find that love he had felt when he had drifted away last night. 

‘Please, please, please, Clara, I’m not good with words. There aren’t words to describe how much you mean to me. So…’ the Doctor hesitated, gazes still locked. 

His left hand trailed upwards from her Clara’s ribs, his thumb stopping a hair’s breadth away from the curve of her breast. The shirt was forced up by his arm, exposing a sliver of skin above her hip. The sensations of the Doctor’s hand so close to her breast and his skin touching hers unobstructed made her shiver, the Doctor’s name now forming a shaky breath on her lips. Anticipation coiled tightly in her belly making her heart beat faster.

‘So, please, Clara, oh my Clara, let me show you,’ he whispered against her lips, his breath hot while his eyes held that same look of pleading hope he had shown to Bonnie.

The Doctor’s thumb brushed the underside of her breast, and even with that little touch she was lost, cursing silently how receptive her body was to his caresses. Back arching, Clara moaned her consent, happily stroking the Doctor’s back and neck.

A strangled sound of victory tore from the Doctor’s throat, quieted only when he pressed his lips to Clara’s waiting ones. Although he was fueled by a frantic need, he forced himself to calm down, easing the pressure of the kiss and letting it transform into something lighter and more natural. They exchanged lazy pecks lips lingering, content with exploring this new and simple contact they had discovered. A whole new way of communicating wordlessly. 

They broke away, breathing slightly ragged. 

The hand that had been toying with the hairs on the nape of the Doctor’s neck, slid down to his jaw and chin, feeling the scratch of his stubble. Clara tilted her head, capturing his mouth in brief kiss before lying back down and staring quietly up at him. The look she gave him had the potential of melting an entire ice planet. As it where it was enough to set the Doctor’s blood on fire. Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with intense longing and desire, while his name spilling from those plump lips he had just tasted drew him in like the call of a siren. Yet, he could see Clara’s love and affection for him lurking underneath the lust. 

This time their kiss was anything but chaste. They met each other halfway, heads angled and lips parted as their passions sparked. Bossy Clara took control, her tongue sneaking past his lips and teeth to seek out his. As their tongues danced for the first time all thoughts of why they had waited so long fled from their minds as bodies took over, hands roaming over expanses of exposed skin. The Doctor crawled fully on top of Clara covering her body with his and she adjusted her position, spreading her legs to accommodate him. Both of his hands went to pull his stolen shirt over her head for better access. 

When he finally cupped her breasts both of them groaned. The Doctor gently kneaded them, delighting in the way her nipples stiffened under his palms. Pulling back so he could see her reactions, their lips separated with a wet sound. 

If he had thought her previous stare had been provoking, the one Clara gave him now shot straight to his groin making him groan. Sitting back on his haunches, Clara’s arms falling to her sides, the Doctor kept massaging her breasts while he flicked the nipples with his thumb. She writhed, moaning and arching her back, already missing the weight of his body on hers. 

Their movements had dislodged the covers, baring them to the warm air of his bedroom. The room was illuminated by a soft light, just enough for them to see the other.

He teased her for several moments, listening avidly to the sounds of her little pants. His hands, with those long and elegant fingers, were shooting electric shocks up her spine, all pooling in her belly in a dizzying mix of arousal. She was already so far gone, and that after only a few kisses and caresses. If foreplay was this good, Clara feared she might combust by the time the Doctor would be sheathed deep inside her. 

Clara let him set the pace, knowing that it was his way of reassuring her of his feelings, and reassuring himself that she was indeed here, with him. Every stroke of his fingers, every whisper of his breath silent words of love. 

Of course the Doctor had seen her naked body in the shower yesterday, but he had been too exhausted to appreciate its beauty: they way her hips flared just a little showing feminine curves, the mounds of her breasts topped with dark pinkish nipples now heaving with each ragged breath, the shapely curve of her ass leading to strong and supple thighs. He recalled how they had wrapped around his waist when he had picked her up. Now, the need to feel them tighten as he drove into her was almost unbearable. He wanted to feel how they trembled as she came. Searing hot arousal pooled in his belly and he hardened further at the mental image. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw Clara’s hungry gaze trained on the large bulge in his boxers. Her tongue licked her parted lips causing him to grow.

Leaning forward, the Doctor kissed her deeply, robbing Clara of her breath. She moaned unhappily when he removed his hands though he was quick to hush her. His mouth left hers, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her neck as the Doctor replaced his hands with his lips suckling first one than other breast. Hands now free to trail lower over her flat belly and hips, he pulled down the boxers she was wearing, Clara lifting her hips to help him. 

Clara’s hands roamed over his shoulders and arms, and chest, feeling his muscles ripple as he moved. She spent a considerable amount of time stroking the patch of silvery chest hair on his sternum, occasionally rubbing her palms over his nipples. A strangled noise came from him each time she did so, rocketing her arousal up another notch. 

She wanted, no _needed_ to feel more of the Doctor. Now. Hauling his head from her breast she kissed him until he moaned into her mouth, her right leg wrapping around his hips. With him distracted, it wasn’t hard to reverse their positions, Clara now straddling his thighs and hands splayed on his upper chest. His hands automatically came to rest on top of her thighs as if they had been doing this for years.

With the Time Lord now under her, Clara was free to explore his body, avidly eying the bulge of his boxes. Tracing paths only she could see on his heaving chest, she made her way down to the waistband of his underwear tortuously slowly. She scraped the skin there, grinning when she heard the Doctor’s sharp intake of breath. It seemed she wasn’t the only who was sensitive. 

Deciding against teasing him too much, she cupped him, feeling something deep inside her clench at the sensation of his hardness under her hand. He helplessly bucked, eyes sliding shut as his nerve endings sparked with pleasure. ‘Clara,’ he moaned, hips thrusting, trying to create more friction between himself and her hand. Clara obliged him, sliding her warm hand in the opening of his boxers and circling his cool erection. When she made contact with him his eyes snapped open and he uttered another strangled moan followed by a string of words she couldn’t make out. 

‘Clara, stop trying to kill me,’ the Doctor growled, hands shooting to her hips. He lifted one of his thighs a fraction, using his grip on her hips to grind her down on his leg eliciting a wanton moan from her. He could feel her wetness as she undulated against him seeking more of that exquisite friction. For a moment, he drank in the wondrous sight of a naked Clara Oswald taking her pleasure from him, her body glowing with the flush of arousal. 

‘Ahh… who’s…,’ licking her lips she tried again, ‘who’s trying to kill ughn…’ The Doctor’s thumb dipped into the patch of curly brown hair at the apex of her thighs and Clara had to fight hard not to lose her train of thought. 

‘uhh… whom,’ she finished, throwing her head back in pure ecstasy. 

The Doctor admired the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Lifting himself up, he now sat flush to her chest, his left hand leaving her hip to travel up her spine and grip her hair. Neck fully exposed, he licked and sucked at her pulse while his thumb continued to rub lazy circles over her clit. 

Clara’s whole body was on fire, skin hot and sweaty, and her world narrowed down to just the alien man sitting beneath her. She kept up her strokes, doing her best to listen to the catches in the Doctor’s breath through the fog of lust. Her free hand clutched at his back, forcing him close. Opening her eyes, she looked down, seeing the Doctor stare up at her hungrily, his lips still firmly planted on her neck. His eyes had changed again, transformed into a stormy gray, glazed over with desire, the pupils fully dilated. His hair was damp in several places, unruly and sticking out at odd angles.

It hit her like a train, the realization making her choke on her breath just as much as has the Doctor’s clever fingers. She wanted to see him come undone by her touch, complete the slow burning dance they had started in the shower the previous day. She wanted to see him lose his iron control, laid bare to her, his barriers gone.

She changed her rhythm, swiping her thumb over the engorged head and down the underside, feeling a drop of moister gather after repeating the action a few times. She listened carefully for the catches in his breath, the little noises of need he tried to swallow and did her best to learn what gave him the most pleasure. The feel of him heavy and hard in her hand, and the helpless way his hips twisted to seek her touch, caused to grow wetter. She was slick and pulsating, longing for more of the Doctor’s touch. 

The Doctor had stilled his movements against her, his finger now applying a steady pressure that was both delicious and maddening while his other hand gripped Clara’s hip. It wasn’t enough. Her body was lead by a primal instinct, whatever control she had left focused entirely on stroking him. Maybe if she moved her hips just so… Clara gasped in his ear. Boldly, her hand reach further down to cup his testicles and explore the spot behind them. Her reward was a strangled sound that might have been her name against her neck. 

‘Clara, please,’ he panted against her neck, hearts thudding inside his chest at an alarming speed. ‘Later, I promise. But this, now, you are what’s important,’ the Doctor croaked out and raised his head so they were eye to eye. Acquiescing, Clara removed her hand from his boxes, though she kept her palm pressed firmly against him, her other hand shifting to his shoulder. 

As if to prove his point, he started stroking her again, but this time, two long fingers delved further, parting wet folds to circle her entrance. Clara jerked at the new sensations, willing him to bury his fingers deep inside her. 

‘Doc…tor, god… please,’ she pleaded, spurring him on with her words.

He smiled, kissing her, licking her lower lip and tongue slipping inside her mouth to stroke Clara’s tongue with his. They kissed feverishly as the Doctor slid first one, then a second finger inside her. His other hand was busy caressing her back and side, skimming over the side of her breast teasingly. Between his fingers stroking steadily and his thumb, Clara felt herself teeter on the edge. That wonderful pressure was building fast while her thighs and abdomen tightened from the pleasure he was creating. It wouldn’t take much if the Doctor continued like that, repeating all the movements that made her breath hitch. Her hips were moving on their own volition, twisting and grinding, not even knowing whether to try to escape from the Doctor’s touch or seek it out. 

Then the Doctor’s fingers hit that one particular spot that caused an instant reaction from her. The coil snapped and Clara came with a long wail that was half swallowed by the Doctor’s hungry kiss. Her internal muscles clamped down on his fingers as her body shook with the intensity of her orgasm.  
He held her close, halting his movements and letting her ride out her climax. His left hand rubbed calming circles on her back, occasionally tracing the length of her spine. 

‘Oh god, what are you doing to me?’ Clara croaked from where her head had fallen on his shoulder, strands of hair plastered to her sweaty neck and forehead. She was gradually floating back down to earth, a pleasant buzz filling her. 

‘I take it was good?’ the Doctor laughed happily, nuzzling Clara’s cheek with his nose and nudging her head. Clara returned the gesture, lifting her chin to meet his lips in a tender kiss. 

‘Your modesty always surprises me, Doctor,’ Clara smiled against his lips. 

‘Yeah,’ was all the Doctor replied. Just to tease her, he pulled his fingers out form her, making sure to drag them against her clitoris before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. Clara jolted at the touch, her nerves still sparking and over-sensitized. Not wanting to let him get away with too much, she grabbed his boxes and slid them over his hard penis. She scraped a short nail along the underside, enjoying the way the Doctor shuddered powerlessly under her hands, his erection jumping at the feeling. 

Using his superior strength, the Doctor pushed Clara on to her back, reluctantly dragging her hand away. He had been right in thinking that her caresses would burn right through his skin to his nerves. The differences in their bodies temperatures did not make her hot touch any less maddening. Moving back on the bed, he stripped off his underwear in a haste, not wanting to lose any more time being apart from Clara. He then sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, holding his hand out in invitation to her. 

In a perfect mirror of the event of last Christmas, Clara took his hand, eagerly crawling over to him. But instead of kissing his cheek now she bent down and kissed the spot between his hearts, feeling his hearts thump under his ribs. Locking gazes, she situated herself in his lap, legs wrapped tightly around the Doctor’s waist. Her right hand came to rest where the imprint of her lips had been seared onto his skin. ‘Can you feel it now?’ 

Could he feel it? Her touch was etched into his very soul, much like her. 

The Doctor covered her hand with his, pressing it tighter to his chest. He smiled and Clara fell even more in love with her impossible man. She kissed him in acknowledgment of his silent reply, all the while both very much aware of his throbbing arousal trapped against her belly. She had side-tracked him, but he was quick to resume his task. The Time Lord wasted no more time in lifting Clara up, one arm around her back support, his other hand guiding himself inside her as he slowly lowered her. 

Mutual sighs of ecstasy filled the bedroom as its occupants froze for an instant, their bodies trying to process the intense sensations flowing through them. 

‘Clara,’ the Doctor moaned. She was so unbearably hot around him that his respiratory bypass had to kick for a minute as he forgot how to breathe. She felt like heaven, all wet and rippling muscles as she adjust to his girth. 

Clara was momentarily lost in her own sea of feelings and emotions. They were a whole now, the Doctor filling her to the point she thought she might burst. No spontaneous combustion yet, but then he hadn’t moved. And she craved it. She was impatient, wanted more from him, wanted to feel him thrust deep, bury himself inside her and never leave. Her body cried out to him, wriggling to get him to do something. Instead the Doctor remained passive, the only proof he was affected as much as Clara were his harsh breaths caressing the damp skin of her neck.

‘Clara,’ the Doctor repeated her name, his right hand stroking her thigh up to her ass and back again, his grip strong enough to leave small little bruises on her flesh. Another reminder that he had been there. ‘I heard you,’ he swallowed. His left arm circled her back, fingers spread wide across her shoulder blades. ‘Last night, your words, I heard them.’ 

The Doctor raised his head to look at Clara, his words stilling her movements as they broke through the fog of arousal. He gazed at her, her brown eyes nearly black. ‘Oh my Clara,’ he sighed, brushing his nose against hers so tenderly Clara had to fight hard not to cry. 

She twined her fingers in his silvery curls and then trailed them down his cheeks, the tips lingering on his chin before falling away. The hand previously on her thigh caught and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. ‘I meant every word,’ Clara declared. They were so close that her lips grazed the back of his bony hand when she spoke. ‘I know,’ he said dropping her hand and smashing his lips against hers. She gasped, unprepared for the Doctor’s sudden assault, even less prepared when he thrust hard up into her. 

‘I know, Clara, I know,’ he whispered, ending his words with a bite on her lower lip. 

‘Oh god,’ Clara’s arms around his neck and shoulders anchoring herself to him as she bounced from the force of his thrusts. Deep and hard, and creating friction in all the right places, he pulled out of her almost all the way before he pushed back in, her own hips meeting his in a perfect counter-rhythm, rising up and plunging back down to impale herself on him. She felt the Doctor’s neck muscles strain beneath her hands, his tendons taut and she couldn’t help but suck and nibble at them, leaving her own little marks. He let out string of alien words alternated by her name. 

They were so intertwined that it was impossible to make out where the one started and the other ended. Arms forcing each other close, Clara cradled his head to her chest, murmuring constantly in his ear to egg him on, hardly believing some of the things that left her mouth. Their bodies slid sensually against the other, damp with sweat as they both sought that ultimate prize. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the space around them, mixing with their shared gasps and moans.

She was quickly climbing back to that tethering edge, the flutter in her lower belly increasing which thrust. The grip of her internal muscles tightened around the Doctor, making him choke on his breath and groan her name in a tone of agonized pleasure. He too was close, throbbing and surrounded by molten heat, his thrusts becoming more erratic while his body tensed, seeking its own natural fulfillment. 

The Doctor trailed his hand form Clara’s back down to her side, becoming side-tracked for a moment by her breast, and then continuing southward over her belly and into the triangle of pubic hair to flick his thumb over her clit. She moaned, clutching him tighter and squeezing his cock. She was close, so close, her whole body singing just for him. Just a little more, just a little bit… The Doctor hit exactly the right spot and Clara froze, gasping and eyes widening, before her orgasm tore through her in rippling waves of pleasure from her core and all the way to the tip of her toes. She sobbed his name as she clamped down around him drawing him in even deeper. 

Her name fell from the Doctor’s lips like a mantra while he rode out her climax, his hips now rocking mostly out of his control. Clara felt the moment he finally let go and lost himself in her. A low keening sound pushed forth from his chest as he buried himself as far as possible in her, spilling himself in hot bursts. His face contorted in a grimace, teeth grinding and then suddenly he inhaled sharply as his pleasure spiked. 

In that moment, his body one with Clara and her arms hugging him to her, the Doctor could truly see her standing between him and all the hurt and pain that were part of his existence, protecting the very core of his soul. Something primal inside him spurred him on even through the haze of his orgasm. It spurred him to act upon that instinct that had been so strong before. He licked Clara’s neck with the flat of his tongue, tasting the saltiness of her skin. She cried out when he bit hard at her neck, the pain radiating down her spine as she felt his teeth break the skin. Her post-orgasmic high soon turned the stinging sensation into something much more enjoyable. 

They were both completely spent, sagging in the other’s embrace as they slowly descended back to the material world, planting sloppy kisses wherever they could reach without breaking apart, hands roaming leisurely over backs and legs. 

‘Hmm, Doctor,’ Clara purred into his shoulder, ‘when can we do that again?’ 

The Doctor heard the smile in her voice, his own forming on his lips in response. ‘Always the same with you pudding brains,’ he murmured with a mock sneer. His fingers brushed teasingly over her ribs, eliciting a giggle from Clara. ‘Always led by the same basic instincts,’ he went on assaulting her ribs in earnest and making her squirm. His softening cock slipped from her then, but her moan of disappointment was quickly drowned out by her laughter. 

The Doctor moved forward and they fell in a heap, with Clara desperately trying to escape his hands. She twisted and turned, batting his hands away with little success. Eventually she curled on her side, her back to him and knees drawn protectively to her chest. 

‘Doctor, please stop! Oh god!’ Clara shrieked. In the end he backed away, choosing instead to lavish attention to her shoulders and back, leaving a trail of wet kisses along her spine. She unfurled from her fetus position, her back arching when the Doctor touched particularly sensitive places she didn’t even knew she had. 

His quest of mapping out her back came to a halt when his eyes landed on the angry red mark on her neck. It looked painful, the skin broken and slightly puffy, and he winced, worried he had hurt her in the blinding rush of possessiveness that had overcome him. The Doctor traced the wound with his index finger, careful not to put pressure on it. ‘Did I hurt you?’ his voice was tinged with regret, and Clara glanced over her shoulder to him. Turning to lie on her back, she gave him a reassuring smile. 

‘I’m fine,’ she told him softly, angling her head upward to give him a peck on his lips. He pursed his lips, a skeptical frown creasing his forehead. 

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘You didn’t answer mine,’ Clara shot back laughingly. 

‘Really, Clara, is sex all you can think about?’ the Doctor said exasperated. Pushing up with his arms he made to pull away when Clara wrapped her arms around his neck protesting loudly. 

‘It was some amazing sex! Can you blame a girl for wanting more when there is this devilishly handsome stick insect with some interesting hidden talents lying on top of her?’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Clara.’ 

She pouted, her eyes doing that widening thing that the Doctor absolutely hated. He couldn’t stand how it made him a slave to her whims. Those eyes were a powerful weapon, and should definitely be banned. Yes. 

Clara pressed a kiss to his thin lips, murmuring: ‘what if I told you that beside the great sex, I felt loved, and happy, and humbled by your devotion to me? That I love you?’ 

The Doctor’s features remained hard for a second longer before clearing, the corners of his eyes sloping downward making even his attack eyebrows lose their menacing look. ‘I love you, my Clara,’ he sighed contentedly, dipping his head to claim her lips in a kiss that left them both breathless. 

‘Oh, how you make my head spin, Clara Oswald,’ he whispered between tiny kisses to her lips, ‘robbing me of any sane thought,’ lips trailing down her neck and over the hollow of her throat, lingering there, feeling her arms tighten at his words.

Bringing his body to cover hers, he claimed her lips once more, rubbing his arousal against her thigh. Clara moaned appreciatively, fingers running up his flanks to his head and tangling in his hair. She shifted parting her legs to allow him to settle in the cradle of her thighs. Already their bodies hummed with anticipation. 

‘Show me the stars, impossible man,’ she murmured to him, a dazzling smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. What chance did he ever have of refusing her? He was happily owned by Clara Oswald, and he didn’t regret a thing.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!! ^_^


End file.
